


Just a Memory

by maemdora



Category: 2PM (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 06:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6459304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maemdora/pseuds/maemdora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Playing robots and monsters has become too vivid, too terrifyingly real these past years and even though they're winning the battles, he knows the world is losing the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Written this back in 2013 for averagefaces. Betaed by Jamie.

Chansung loves sunrise.  
  
He loves the way it seems to persistently winning over the dark grim sky, the way it lights up the horizon, the way it stands as a promise, the beginning of a new day, a fresh start, a new hope in a world that hasn't ended.  
  
Sunrise is like the universe’s way of saying _hey, here’s another chance, use it well,_ and Chansung is down for chances, any kind of chances, especially when he's running out of faith; playing robots and monsters has become too vivid, too terrifyingly real these past years and even though they're winning the battles, he knows the world is losing the war.  
  
(Nichkhun would tease him about this. He actually has. It's just one of the things Nichkhun does- teasing and calling Chansung names from sappy philosopher to confused poet-wannabe, when to be fair it was Nichkhun who feeds him with books after books after books throughout the years.)  
  
The relay gel feels cool and strange on his face as it fills up his visor. Chansung unclenches his fists, relaxes, and doesn't fight the urge to breathe. He's done this so many times now, he knows the procedure, knows the two by twos, recognises the distinct sound, _and feel_ , of the spinal clamp melding in place at the back of his drivesuit, the initial connection to the pons system made, the neural feedback sending slight shiver down to his little toes and to the tips of his fingers.  
  
Chansung closes his eyes, a slight twitch on his left brow when he feels a gentle tug somewhere in his mind, a quiet nudge that’s as alien as it is familiar and Chansung knows by experience that it's just _Nichkhun_ , coming closer, _coming together_ , and so he concentrates, trying to keep his mind clear, and just lets himself drifts.  
  
He feels the blue fog seeping, taking over and coaxing his senses slowly as he goes deeper,  
  
and then he feels the pull.  
.  
.  
.  
  
He's on a backyard of a house, the blue haze barely gone. It's sunny and he can almost smell the freshly mowed grass, can hear the laughter bouncing in the air, the serene tinkling of wind chimes instead of incessant machinery droning white noises around him. He takes a few steps forward and sees them, Nichan and Yanin, barely in their teens, chasing each other with water guns, soaked tees and flip flops. He sees Cherreen,--the youngest, running towards him with flowers in her hair and popsicles in her small hands.  
  
No, not towards him.  
  
_Towards Nichkhun._  
  
These memories belongs to Nichkhun.  
  
Chansung turns and through the blue haze he sees Nichkhun, a much younger Nichkhun, roasting under the summer sun, a silly hat perched on top of his head and an opened book on his lap.  
  
And then the sun is gone and he’s on a beach.  
  
It's dark, but the moon is out and the stars are there. The waves are gentle and the wind is rustling hushed whispers between the trees; he can feel the sand, warm against the heels of his feet.  
  
There are moments in his life that are embedded deep in Chansung’s memory. Moments he knew he will remember five, ten, twenty years from now. Sometimes it’s grand, hectic, like when he won 1st place on the district’s Taekwondo tournament ( his mother beaming with proud tears, hundreds of people standing, shouting and cheering for him as he bowed and received his medal, and Chansung remembers thinking that maybe he’s not such a shit of son after all) , and other times it’s not.  
  
Other times it’s small, quiet and honest and it seeps its way into the very core of him and Chansung lets it, embraces it, tucking it gently under layers of memory for safe keeping.  
  
Chansung finds his hand moving up from a soft, cotton blanket, brushing a stray hair carefully from Junho's forehead.  
  
A delightful hum in his stomach.  
  
The tip of Junho's nose is cold when Chansung leans forward and kisses it, the hand that rises and brushes his cheek is warm, --the smile on Junho's face warmer. Chansung doesn't remember ever wanting anything else in his life the way he wanted Junho to stay like this- safe, smiling and trusting in his arms.  
  
" So i’ve been thinking." He hushes, nosing Junho's temple gently, curly tufts of dark hair tickling the bridge of his nose. “ I’m going to ask you to marry me and you’re going to say yes.”  
  
There’s a pause before Junho’s face breaks into a smile, loop-sided, and genuinely amused.  
  
“ You’re crazy.”  
  
“ I might be.”  
  
“ We’re sixteen, Hwang.”  
  
“ I know .”  
  
“ This is nuts.”  
  
“ Very. So is that a yes?”  
  
Junho throws his head back and laughs, bolder this time, loud, like he wants the world to hear him. His adam’s apple bobbing and the timbre of his voice aligns Chansung's universe; and the spark, the spark in Junho's eyes that lights up his whole face when he laughs, --is the sun.  
  
(and Chansung keeps a flicker in the very depth of his heart).  
  
  
The horizon’s bursting in orange when Junho pushes up to kiss him, mouth and tongue and soul givinggivinggiving, his fingers curling gentle behind Chansung's neck to hold him still, hold him in place, hold him where he belongs, and it's perfect.  
  
Chansung loves sunrise. Chansung can go on and on, high and low ( and Nichkhun can shove it for all Chansung cares ) about it but mostly, most definitely, Chansung loves sunrise because it reminds him of Junho.  
  
  
  
"Chansung-ah."  
  
There’s a voice calling him. It sounds as if it comes from afar, out of place, like it doesn't belong here. Alien yet familiar.  
  
“Chansungie, let it go.”  
  
He blinks and this time he finds Nichkhun standing beside him. He’s in their standard drivesuit, metallic red, the way the Panama Shatterdome issued them, his eyes soft and understanding through the clear visors, his hand firm and steady on Chansung’s shoulder.  
  
For all the two years he spent in the academy and a good four as a Ranger after that , Chansung still remembers all those lectures about not latching on a certain memory, not chasing the R.A.B.I.T. and all the messy ramifications if he does so and he knows, _he knows_ , but it feels that he never quite mastered the knack of it, always seems to hold his grip just a bit longer if possible. Never really learned how to let Junho go.  
  
Chansung opens his mouth and closes them again, and whatever he's trying to say but doesn't, Nichkhun gets it, because the Thai is smiling , albeit wistfully.  
  
" Good maknae." He taps the back of Chansung's helmet.  
  
  
And then they're back at the Conn-pod.  
The noises of engines turning and buzzing and clicking around them doesn’t make him nervous anymore, if they ever did, it was so long ago it feels like it’s from another lifetime. Maybe it is, Chansung sometimes thinks. Maybe his life prior K-Day never really happened, maybe it’s a dream, maybe he’s born a ranger, because _this is_ what he knows, _this is_ what he does best. Confronting the kaijus, riding the drift, piloting a jaeger has become his daily bread, the LOCCENT guide book , his bible. Not that he ever read a bible before, --actually, he did, once, back in Junho’s room when--  
  
“ Right hemisphere calibrating.” Nichkhun announces.  
  
“ Left hemisphere calibrating. “ Chansung follows, frowning, gathering his thoughts and stuffing them back into the mental suitcase at the back of his head.  
  
They are here to do their job.  
  
The assessment HUDs crowds whatever small space they have, the blue interface where Chansung can clearly see the LOCCENT mission control is bright, he can see the tech officer declaring that their _“ neural bridge is strong and holding.”_  
  
He couldnt see, though, the way Nichkhun’s lips quirks up as he taps in the last calibration on the control panels, the coordinates and settings and such, but Chansung doesn’t have to, he’s in Nichkhun’s head and Nichkhun in his. He knows exactly what Nichkhun is thinking.  
  
Chansung gets ready in their fighting stance, the ocean in front of them is calm and they can only see a small dot approaching, a lvl 3, their order was to clear it asap. And between Nichkhun’s tact and Chansung’s reflexes,  
  
They did.  
  
  
~  
  
  
September was the month they received their transfer order to the Hongkong Shatterdome and Chansung packed everything he owns in one single bag. You don’t really hold on to things when it’s the end of the world, and nothing that matters to him can fit within bags and suitcases anyway. The ground staff and crews threw a make-shift farewell party, which is, not exactly a party because everyone knows what happen after this, everyone knows what happen after twenty something Jaeger destroyed and the kaiju attacks shows no signs of stopping.  
  
Horizon Brave, Nova Hyperion, Solar Prophet, Matador Fury, just to name a few. But they’re not just names, not just machines, not just rangers. They’re people he knows, _friends_ , they’ve shared beers and laughter, fears and secrets, that kind that only to be shared between pilots, like betting over the three and free, trying to make sense about the velcroing ( they never did, that one) what it feels to have a drift hangover clouding your mind for days, the itch under your fingernail that craves physical existence of your co-pilot post a long a drift, just _things_ , things non-pilot would never understand even if it’s typed down in bold red letters and read aloud to their faces. But pilots would. Pilots does.  
  
And now they’re gone.  
  
They’ve lost so much under the sun.  
  
He’s lost so many.  
  
They shut down shatterdomes,--seven of them, Panama due in October--, all the funding relocated to the anti-kaiju wall project, the wall of life--, although Chansung doesn’t understand how a wall, no matter how thick it is, is supposed to prevent the kaiju from racking into their cities.  
  
Still it was a party, a celebration of some sort for the end of an era; celebration of life, of hope , or what’s left of it, a celebration that’s riding on the slow current of mournings for the departed, for those who lost their lives , those who stays behind and those who are leaving.  
  
Chansung catch glimpses of Nichkhun charming a pretty brunette on the dance floor, or it could be the other way around, he can’t really tell. The girls tonight are pretty and fiery and seems eager-- , more than ever, to get a live brazen Jaeger pilot into their bed for the last time. Chansung has his arms around one, all soft curves and beautiful tan, and as the laughter of the people he’s been with for years fills the air that night, Chansung raises his glass high, one last drink before they part.  
  
  
  
  
There are bruises on Nichkhun’s neck the next day as he leans his head back and sleep throughout their journey to Hongkong. Chansung doesn’t wonder whether there’s more under the layers of Nichkhun’s outfit; he knows he’s going to see the full blown scene during their next drift. _Wouldn’t be the first,_ Chansung thinks fleetingly. He lets Nichkhun sleep and concentrates on finishing his book.  
  
_“ What are you reading?”_ Nichkhun croaks over the noise from the chopper’s engine , now awake and tilting Chansung’s tablet just enough for him to see the screen before cringing dramatically at Chansung. _“Crappy thing to read there. Psychology~”_ he says in mock-fun.  
  
_“ Your mum sent ten volumes of these crappy things for me last Christmas, “_ Chansung shouts back, not lifting his face from the page he’s on. _“ i’m so going to tell her you called it crappy.”_  
  
_“ Telltale."_ Nichkhun grins, and adds, _“ No tang mo pun for you next time we come visit them, don’t think I’d fall for your kicked puppy look, that doesn’t work on me.”_  
  
_“ don’t care. She’ll get it for me anyway.”_ Chansung shrugs his shoulders.  
  
_“ Yaah. ”_ Nichkhun pokes his arm and steals his tablet. He’s already tapping away when Chansung pokes him back because Chansung knows, --unfortunately through (bad) experiences, that it’s not the wisest thing to let Nichkhun plays with his tablet.  
  
_“ No porn, please.”_ Chansung shouts and gets the attention of the corporal sitting near the window, who’s now grinning despite the wind slapping across his face, Chansung personally hates airtravel, the fact that he’s piloting a jaeger never lessen that feeling.  
  
_“ that was a onetime thing, one time! I was bored!”_ Nichkhun answers him, and Chansung have to laugh at this because Nichkhun gets bored too easily too frequent.  
  
_“ no sending compromising emails through my mailbox either or I’m disowning you just so you know.”_ Chansung shouts one last time, kicking Nichkhun’s boots just because he can.  
  
_“ Aye, captain Killjoy.”_ Nichkhun kicks back, snickering.  
  
  
  
Looking back, Chansung’s suppose he’s lucky to still be alive to this day, alive and still piloting. His jaeger--, their jaeger, _Diablo intercept_ is one if not the oldest jaeger to still be operating, it’s not the fastest, not the biggest, not the best in close quarter combat either, the fact that it’s a mark-2 speaks for itself when compared to the other remaining, more advanced, jaegers. But she’s _theirs_ , she’s a part of them, and he knows how to move her the way he thinks are best in a fight, him and Nichkhun. Chansung doesn’t know how or why, but he and Nichkhun--, they just _work,_ like they click together and somewhere inside Diablo intercept there’s a bulb lighting up because of it.  
  
Chansung looks at Nichkhun and remembers exactly the first time they met. He’s fresh out of the academy, the youngest ranger to ever graduate, the one everyone bullies because everyone bullies you when you’re the youngest in everything, but then Khun raised his staff and pointed it right straight at him, still panting and sweating and licking his bruised pride after Nichkhun whipped his ass good in front of all other candidates in the Kwoon and declares, _this one, this is my co-pilot._ He’ll never forget the conviction he saw in Nichkhun’s eyes.  
  
Or when he’s wrecked and confused after their first drift, because first drift are always so brutal, the books and lecturers in the academy can only teach you so much and while Chansung aced every test, every exams and simulations, the real thing is still too physically, mentally and emotionally overwhelming; it was Nichkhun who sat beside him on the floor of his pathetic corner in his boxed-in room and told him, very carefully, --not to cheer him up, but to make him see that _you can do this, stop questioning yourself._ _We’re compatible, you felt that too I know you did, and that means you’re the best for me, and I trust you._  
  
It was Nichkhun who climbed down his bunk bed to join his when Chansung was homesick ( but no not really because you can’t be homesick when you no longer have a home to get sick about right?) and he’s not crying but Nichkhun holds him through it anyway, whispering words in languages Chansung fails to understand but felt comforted nevertheless.  
  
_When you drift together, you’re no longer two separate individual, you are one._ It wasn’t called mind melding for nothing.  
  
The drift is emotional entanglement, to see things their way, to share their memories, feelings, ideas, _fear._ It's complete and total trust. But the drift is not love, although it could foster one, although it derives itself strongly from one; which explains the countless lovers and twin pairings Chansung saw back when he first enlist as a cadet . Stripped down it’s about compatibility, and standing in front of a kaiju, it’s how fast and effective you can kill together.  
  
But it wasn’t always like this, his life.  
  
It doesn't always revolve around kaijus and jaegers, metalfists and plasma canons, the taste of relay gel in his mouth or the stench of kaiju blue spilling when they slay one. Once upon a time, he had Junho.  
  
And then he lost him.  
  
  
  
  
Junho doesn’t seem sad, he’s more on the anger end. _Furious._ Or at least that’s how Chansung wants to remember it. Junho shooting words to him like they’re meant to hurt while he just stands there, palms fisted on his sides as he _takes it_. The _Seoul Enquirer_ he shows Junho earlier is laying on the sand, the pages flapping in the wind, torn a bit of when Junho throws it back at his face in an angry fit Chansung’s cheek burns with something more than just papercuts.  
  
“ you wanna be a hero, Chan?” Junho spits out, “ is that it? You’re enlisting because you wanna be a _fucking_ hero for everyone?”  
  
Chansung half expecting a fist to land on his jaw, or his eyes, it doesn’t, so he goes, “ no I don’t, you know it’s not that, god dammit nuneo, people are dying,” which seems to fume Junho more.  
  
“ people are ALWAYS dying Chan, wake the fuck up, that’s why we’re going to the mainland, where it’s _safer,_ away from these damned beaches and coastlines.” Junho yells at him, the rims of his eyes red and Chansung’s heart clenches painfully at the sight of Junho looking this way , pain and confusion raw and open in his eyes. But Chansung can’t stop, so he pushes on.  
  
“there’s been another attack, “Chansung swallows, “ Sydney.” and his eyes flickers to the front page of the half crumpled newspaper where he can see in large black letters _“scissure”_ overlaying this, this _thing_ , fierce and monstrous, long jaws and menacing bioluminous glow rising from inside its mouth, Chansung closes his eyes. “ my father was there. we got the news earlier this morning. They found his--,” he takes a shaky breath, “ they found his body, or what’s left of him.”  
  
“ you don’t even know your father," Junho’s derisive scoff falters towards the end. " ..he left you and your mum when you were _two_ , you hated the guy.” junho sighs.  
  
“ _my mother—_ “ Chansung says, “ my mother knows him, my mother loves him, and she’s devastated.” He looks up to Junho, “ and if I can prevent that from happening again, if I can prevent even one more husband, _one more father_ , dying because these--, _these monsters,_ then I will. Please understand. Please Junho, let me do this..”  
  
“ no, “ Junho shakes his head, looking very much determined, “ no I wont _let you do this,_ for god's sake Chan this is not like Hyunggyu’s cat stranded up on a tree, or helping Jiyeon from her bullies. This is different. This is dangerous, _you could die doing this._ “ Junho breathes out, saying like he’s lecturing one of the kids he used to babysit, but he’s biting his lip and he’s blinking way too much and his nose is getting red,.” You can’t do this, chan. You cant just go and save everyone _every fuckin’ time._ ”  
  
“ I’m not trying to save everyone _,_ just the ones I could.”  
  
“ you can’t--”  
  
“ I can _try_.”  
  
“ dont.” Junho pleads.” dont try. Don’t do this. “  
  
  
Junho is looking at him, eyes wide and unblinking, tears pooling at the edges threatening to fall, and everything in Chansung screams for Junho, to wrap him in his arms and covers him from all the harm in the world.  
  
And he does just that, he reaches for Junho’s shoulder and neck and pulls him close, their chest colliding, his nose bumping along Junho’s temple gently, dragging it across his cheek before resting their foreheads together, mouth opening in promises. _“ I’ll come back to you. I will. I swear.”_  
  
But Junho freezes, his palms flat against Chansung’s chest, pushing him away with a chuckle, one Chansung knows meant to be a sneer , some sarcastic taunt he’d seen Junho pulls every so often , but right now it’s lacking poison, it just sound desperate and heartbreaking. “ then there’s no point for this conversation is it? you’ve made your decision. you’re not here to ask me, you’re here to _tell me_ , weren’t you?”  
  
“ Junho...”  
  
“ go.” Junho says, defeated and betrayed.  
  
“ I love you.” Chansung tries, but the words feel fragile and it shatters along with the crashing of waves against his feet, pages of this morning newspaper gets blown away by the wind.  
  
“ if you love me, you won’t leave me.” Junho mutters quietly.  
  
Chansung hoped Junho understand that when he turned his back and left him on the beach that day, it’s not because he doesn’t love him enough, nor that he love him less, it’s just--, it’s something bigger than the both of them, and it’s something Chansung can’t turn a blind eye from. But by the unanswered calls home, the unreplied mails and emails, by the silence suddenly falling between them after he left to enlist, it seems Junho didn’t.  
  
  
  
  
Two years into being a ranger, the table was turned when he and Nichkhun was assigned to join a strike group in Tokyo, Japan.  
  
“ why?” Chansung asks.  
  
“ because.” Junho states, chin tilted up in defiance. He has a scar that goes from the side of his temple down along his sideburns and ended at his jawline. “ You have people to protect, and i have mine. You’re not the only one who can play hero.” Junho’s eyes flickers, sharp and cold, like they’ve lived through too many battles, seen too many deaths.  
  
“ I thought you—“ Chansung lifts his hand absentmindedly, wanting to touch the scar, to ask Junho where he got it from? How? Does it still hurt? Because Chansung has his own battle scars and the largest one, the one that goes from his flank to his left hip to his thigh still aches whenever the weather gets colder.  
  
“ i would what? would sit tight and wait for you like a fool? get on my knees and pray you won’t get yourself killed today? Or tomorrow? or the day after that?” Junho smirks, “ or did you think I fled the country to somewhere safe, having kimchi dips at the backyard while sipping makgeolli and enjoying the weather?”  
  
“i--, I don’t--,” Chansung is overwhelmed.  
  
“ that’s right , _you don’t_.” Junho answers, voice tight. “ you _could’ve_ if you stayed.”  
  
They survived the whole two weeks of his stay in Tokyo without getting on each other’s throats, because Junho can be annoying when he wants to and lord, Junho did wanted to. Not much to say after that, Chansung thinks. He sees Junho sometimes, on tv, celebrating a successful mission, or the last one, barking at the camera about how the anti-kaiju walls won’t work.  
  
Good to know they at least still have that in common.  
  
  
  
  
“ the walls aren’t going to stop them, these kaijus are tearing them apart like they’re paper houses.”  
  
Chansung shifts on his bunk the night he learns they’re being assigned to join the strike group in Hongkong.  
  
“ it figures really, but maybe the PPDC has a plan? Maybe that’s why they’re pulling everyone to Hongkong, they’ll come out with something, “ Nichkhun smiles down to Chansung from his top bunk, his head poking lazily from his blanket “ the way I see it. If anything mind-blowing could happen, it’s happening there. Even if it means we have to kick more kaiju’s asses. “ Nichkhun grins, the corner of his eyes crinkling and Chansung is always amazed on how well Nichkhun is handling this whole apocalypse-is-coming ordeal. He smiles, _always smiling,_ and Chansung rather not remember the instance when he’s not ( five times Chansung found Nichkhun without a smile, but that’s another story to tell).  
  
Chansung’s never been there, Hongkong. But he knows that the PPDC could launch thirty or more jaegers at once from Hongkong shatterdome, so he knows where Nichkhun is coming with his thoughts. But now they don’t have half of it, _heck_ they don’t even have a third of it anymore. what was the numbers again? Five, six jaeger left in the frontlines along the rim? Chansung couldn’t remember each, but what he does remember was out of the five ( or _six_ ) , there’s _echo saber_ , and he knows with the jaeger, comes the ranger piloting it.  
  
“ he’s gonna be there, you know? ” Chansung whispers, like it’s a secret not meant to share.  
  
“ were you hoping he’s not?” comes Nichkhun reply and it makes Chansung’s blood turns cold. A shiver runs down his spine because the only active Jaeger pilot that’s not being called to gather in Hongkong is a dead one. He’d fight tooth and nail and deploy every plasma canon before he’d let that happen.  
  
He still would.  
  
  
  
~  
  
  
  
Hongkong is hot and humid in this time of year, Chansung can feel his bangs sticking to his forehead, his shirt already has a few buttons undone but he’s still sweating like a pig. First thing he’s going to do here is take a long cold shower. Well he needs to find his quarters first, and then he’ll take a long cold shower.  
  
. _.-khun Horvejkul and Chansung Hwang, dubbed the twin tower of Panama are part of the reinforcement coming to Hongkong this month, following the ineffective wall of life project, the government has yet to decide-.._  
  
“ Tsk, she didn’t get me at my good angle.” Nichkhun pouts, lifting the tablet to eye level for a better view while his other arm hiking the strap of his duffel bag, his dog tags clinking against each other as they walk away from the chopper.  
  
“ ‘thought all your angles are good, Khun.” Chansung peers near Nichkhun’s shoulder, steering the older away from an upcoming vehicle. Panama shatterdome was big, but Hongkong is _huge_ , with ground staff everywhere, cadets lining up and he thinks he sees some jumphawks back there, Hongkong shatterdome is bustling, at least that’s what it looks from its runway alone.  
  
“ You think so?” Nichkhun smiles to him, eyes round and shining.  
  
“ no I don’t. _You_ did. “ Chansung chuckles, but adds tactfully incase Nichkhun moves to flick his forehead, “ --that reporter lady seems to think so too.”  
  
“ Ahh, Tiffany.” Nichkhun resigns with a coy smile, giving Chansung his tablet back and takes a look around for the first time since they step their foot in the shatterdome, “ part of my charm, s’all. Might teach it to you if you treat me with some respect and stop your Khun this and Khun that”  
  
“ Okay. Nichkhun then,”  
  
“ It’s Nichkhun _hyung_.”  
  
“ You’re not even Korean.”  
  
“ but you are, and i’m still older than you.”  
  
“ Fine. _Harabeoji._ ”  
  
Nichkhun bursts in laughter and pushes him playfully. Chansung shoves back, and completely throws the older off balance. Someone clears his voice behind them and puts a stop to their push and shove.  
  
“ good afternoon gentlemen, marshall park wishes to be here to greet you but he’s needed elsewhere at the moment, he asks me to welcome you on his behalf. So, _Welcome._ I’m Jang Wooyoung , first officer technician, you may regard me as Jang Wooyoung , first officer technician. If you would follow me please.” The man says flatly, fixing his glasses before turning his back and walking away without even checking whether Nichkhun or Chansung is following him.  
  
( they do follow him, and Chansung knows Nichkhun well enough, too damn much it seems, to recognise the amusement hiding behind his smile as they fall into steps behind the tech-officer.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Wooyoung shows them around , pointing every turn and corridor to inform them where it leads until they arrive in what looks like a huge hangar, and Chansung means huge, think about panama’s and times it to ten and that’ll probably be only half the size. Chansung can see jaeger’s lining up and it needs physical effort to suppress the urge to gape. He’s seen restoration projects before but nothing like this, not in this scale. Looking at these jaegers reminds Chansung of how beat and scuffed their own jaeger is.  
  
“ We have jumphawks transporting _diablo intercept_ as we speak, there will be tech-officers attending her, engineers, weapon specialist as well as battle programmer to make sure she’s on her battle-ready status.” Wooyoung explains as if he can read Chansung’s mind.  
  
“ why cant you ‘attend’ her, you are a tech- officer..person too , arent you?” Nichkhun asks, his tone cloyingly sweet.  
  
“ i’m an NBO, i will assist you through the mission control, making sure the drift is steady and pons connection done without interruption in the course. “ Wooyoung answers, face stoic as ever. “ now on your right you’ll find~”  
  
“ that’s not supposed to sound as hot as I think it sound, is it? “ Nichkhun whispers to Chansung , and adds when Chansung just shrugs, “ hey, he wants to assist so I’ll have a steady and uninterrupted intercourse, if that’s not hot I don’t know what is.”  
  
“he said _in the course,_ not intercourse. i worry about you sometimes khun, you know. ” Chansung mutters distractedly, his eyes catching the sight of a massive jaeger on their right.  
  
“ _mammoth apostle,_ aka the beast,” Wooyoung interjects. “ assembled and stationed in LA shatterdome , by far our strongest and formidable jaeger in the mark-4 level. ” Wooyoung waves his hand towards the jaeger that Chansung had only heard about. All  metal and shield, getting rammed by this jaeger is something Chansung doesn’t even want to imagine.  
  
Nichkhun whispers to him as Wooyoung explain the next rows of jaegers they passes, Chansung’s about to reply when something catches his eyes; the jaeger at the end of the row. The double saber attached to each of its limb glinting under the light, not retractable like in some jaegers Chansung had seen, solid titanium hull with no alloys, its silvery shoulder plates are dense and thick, protecting the conn-pod in its right shoulder. The jaeger is lean in proportion, much like a _runner_ , platinum sky blue build for speed and precision. _  
  
Echo Saber._  
  
There’s a hum inside Chansung’s stomach, a light buzzing under his skin. Apprehension and expectation knocking against each other inside his chest. It’s been so long--, too long, and yet still so early to be seeing him again. He’s not ready. Chansung thinks he’ll never be ready. But he’s walking forward, pulled by invincible strands that’s surprisingly strong to still be tugging him through all this time.  
  
And then Chansung sees _him._


	2. Just A Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first thing he notices is the apparent blue streak of hair between the jet black strands of Junho’s fringe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written this back in 2013 for averagefaces. Betaed by Jamie.

The first thing he notices is the apparent blue streak of hair between the jet black strands of Junho’s fringe.  
  
He kept it long, his fringe, longer than the last time they meet and Chansung’s fingers itch to brush it back when it falls across his forehead.( only it doesn’t, looks like he has so much hair product applied that it’ll probably hold even during a kaiju attack) Chansung knows the surprise is mutual, Junho’s jaw clenching tight the way it does when he’s annoyed but trying to pass as he’s not, and Chansung knows he shouldn’t but he still reels on the small victories of recognizing things that _hasn’t_ changed about him. Like the small shy mole on the bridge of his nose, and he has quite of them, moles, Chansung remembers tracing every single one , mapping the skin with his fingers, tongue, and curiosity, while Junho giggled, _he fucking giggled_ , before finally pulling Chansung up and sliding their mouth together.  
  
Well his mouth is sealed shut now and Chansung fists his palm when he catches Junho’s stare, too afraid his hand would betray what his head dictates and reaches over , every cell in him longing to feel, _to touch_ , as if the years hadn’t been stretching painfully long between them, as if they’re still sixteen and free and in love.  
  
As if the kaijus never came.  
  
  
  
“Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.” Junho smiles ,sneers, arms folded across his chest and Chansung curses silently because Junho is wearing his naval uniform and he looks good, looks _really good_ , all broad shoulders and slim waist and--, well.., he’s always been beautiful in Chansung’s eyes.  
  
But he doesn’t get to see Junho that way, not anymore. So this lump behind his throat better go away. What they have is history, _apparently._  
  
“ Let’s not get dramatic, you have your orders, I have mine, it’s not like I choose to be here.” He says flatly.  
  
Junho laughs at that, _at him_ , still as condescending and sarcastic as the last time they do this, this whole bumping into each other thing, --under orders, because Junho would probably chose to swallow burning coal than meeting Chansung again. Wish he can say that the feeling’s mutual, but it’s--, somehow, it’s not.  
  
“ Tsk, you choose to be here and we both know it. Don’t act like someone forces your hand to it, this was all _you_.” Junho gestures with his hand.  
  
“ Are we really doing this?” Chansung asks.  
  
_Again,_ his mind provides him. _Are we really doing this again ?_ and the answer is mostly yes, judging from the look on Junho’s face, the anger unfurling slowly, the hate--, _not hurt_ , Chansung decided for himself because he’s a selfish bastard and he can’t live with the thought of Junho _hurting_ because of him. So he goes with anger, and with that comes hate and he can deal with hate, he can stuff it in the back of his head, he can even pretend he’s not reliving everything during the drift, he’s getting really good at pretending.  
  
“ You can just walk away, i don’t see why not, I mean, that’s what you did last time, right? Walking away?” Junho scoffs.  
  
And Chansung should know better than to let Junho get under his skin, but he does, and it stings, everytime Junho brings it up, peeling a thin scrape from an old wound, and yet daring him to heal. In a way it is funny, hilarious really, how Junho still have this effect on him, how _he let_ Junho have this effect on him. His mouth reacts faster than he thinks.  
  
“ I don’t recall you stopping me.”  
  
“ maybe I shouldn’t have had to.” Junho’s eyes narrows.  
  
“ Hey now kids, let’s all play nice and get along?” Nichkhun comes from nowhere and slings an arm casually on Chansung’s neck, he’s momentarily forgotten in the brief stare down but Nichkhun is shoving his other hand towards Junho in hope to break the ice, mend the mood, although Chansung thinks not even Nichkhun can melt the iceberg between him and the Junho. “ Nichkhun Horvejkul, we’ve met back in Tokyo? I—“  
  
“ I know who you are.” And there it is again, the way Junho clenches his jaw, staring annoyed at Nichkhun’s arm around Chansung. Which is ridiculous because Nichkhun has been nothing but friendly to everyone he meets, like seriously, he’s _Nichkhun_. “ just get him out of my way, and we’ll get along just fine.” Junho says, cold. He bumps Chansung’s shoulder purposely when he walks away.  
  
“ still the sunshine and rainbows that we all love I guess?.” Nichkhun ruffles Chansung’s hair.  
  
Chansung hikes his bag higher and fights the urge to turn his head and watches after Junho , it only lasted for a moment, because he is turning his head and he is watching after Junho. Junho's right, he _could've_. Could’ve been there for Junho, could’ve have him; could’ve wrap Junho tight in his arms and shouted mine, _mine mine mine_ and let the world broods in envy. Something heavy and tight settles low on his chest seeing Junho walking away from him, Chansung doesn’t like it, but afraid that it’s too late to do anything.  
  
  
  
  
  
This is not what Chansung had in mind.  
  
But Junho is wielding his hanbo like he’s born with it, moving fast and strong sliding the end of his staff between Chansung’s leg as he backs him with a shoulder and drives an elbow to Chansung’s face. Chansung blocks the elbow, easy. Junho turns his wrist and makes a wide swiping motion and the next thing Chansung register is his ass slamming the mattress with a muffled thud. ( it’s not that he doesn’t see it coming, that’s the thing. Chansung knows it’s coming, he can read it from Junho’s expression, the way his shoulder falls even before he starts his move, the angle and trajectory Junho’s going to take, the problem is that Junho is too damn fast for him to keep up.)  
  
Chansung regains himself and jumps to his feet the next second, and Junho’s already moving towards him again.  
  
See, this wont be happening if he just took Nichkhun’s offer and have the night out, experiencing hongkong first hand with the expert of first hand experiences, Nichkhun’s voice echoes at the back of Chansung mind as he swats Junho’s fist away.  
  
But the last time he follows Nichkhun’s suggestion of having _experiences~_ , Chansung had woken up with an awful hangover that lasted days, and a  new tattoo on his left ass cheek. So no, he declines Nichkhun and opts to break a sweat instead.  
  
He goes for the treadmill, making himself do some sit ups and push ups repetitions after. When that’s not working, Chansung grabs a shirt and heads for the kwoon.  
  
Junho is there, to his surprise, hanbo in hand and sweat gliding along his jawline to drip down his shirt that’s already soaked, the fabric clinging tight against outlines of taut , lean muscles . Chansung feels his mouth goes dry.  
  
“ Junho.” he greets.  
  
Junho doesn’t flinch, just raises his head and greets back. “ Hwang.”  
  
At first Chansung thought Junho would walk out and leave, at first he thought _he'd_ chickened out and leave, avoiding confrontation and keeping the milleu conducive for everyone else, but Chansung finds himself staying.  
  
And then suddenly they’re doing _this_ , this is not a fight, not a compatibility test , this is Chansung taking two steps back because Junho is coming, fast and determined and Chansung plants his foot down , spots an opening and goes for it, thrusting his half stick and hits Junho right on his stomach.  
  
It hurts. From the way Junho pales out and presses his lips together, his hanbo dropping against the mattress. But Junho is stubborn, pushing forward with his fist, Chansung throws his own hanbo across the room and welcomes him with bare hands.  
  
It’s a series of hit and miss, Junho ducking a blow and Chansung evading a kick, but there’s a rhythm, almost like a dance, the way they move around each other, the way they anticipate each other's action, and following through just to know who can outsmart or outspeed the other; the kwoon’s lighting is bright for them to asses one another’s movement but also dim enough for shadows to hide. Junho is panting, and Chansung realizes he’s half hard just from the sound, the heat, the tension between them. They’ve been here before,-- _once upon a time,_ tucked safe in the shadows, Junho's pant hot and loud in his ear, Junho’s touch branding his skin, Junho’s gasping _harder, faster,_ and something burns inside Chansung.  
  
Junho swooshes left, palm stabbing Chansung’s side. Chansung rolls his shoulder, grabs junho's wrist , turns and pins it against his own chest. Junho’s back is pressed flush against his front, his neck, damp and warm is just right there, and when Chansung inhales, the musky sweaty scent hits his system faster before Chansung could put up his walls, rattling memories he tried hard to ignore.  
  
He swallows, audibly, and Chansung could swear Junho just chokes down a laugh, the corner of his lips quirking up as he bares his neck for Chansung and Chansung--, against his better judgement, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting Junho seeps into his pores, the feeling is heady and dangerously addictive.  
  
It is also stupid. Junho hooks his left foot behind his ankle and grips him by the hip, using his own as a lever, he flips Chansung onto his back, slamming him against the mattress and dropping his own full weight on Chansung’s chest as he straddles him, pinning him down.  
  
“ you’re so easy to read, hwang.” Junho chuckles darkly, starring straight to Chansung with hands on the mattress on either side of Chansung’s head.  
  
Chansung opens his mouth for a comeback but Junho’s eyes is the ocean, and Chansung is drowning. _–has been drowning_ since the day they first met, and still is, Chansung admits willingly, despite the years, the silence filled with questions and crippling guilt.  
  
So he reaches up, up for Junho’s nape, up for his heart and the love he left cold, his lifeline hidden somewhere behind Junho’s right ear , and his place on the curves of Junho’s lips.  
  
Junho's breath falls warm on his face when Chansung presses their mouth together, slick and wet with memories;  the flick of his tongue is fire and Chansung is burning. He misses this, the way Junho's breath mixes with his , the gentle purr Junho makes as he deepens the kiss, the pull of Junho's lips when he nips them between his teeth. When Chansung rolls them over, their body already slotting together, already finding the curves and angles they both knew so well. Chansung drags his mouth down to Junho's throat, the skin salty and sweet and intoxicating and Junho grunts low and it feels like coming home.  
  
There will be time, Chansung thinks, for them to talk it out, sorting out what went wrong between them, for him to make love to Junho slow, taking in his quiet gasps that Chansung love so much, the sun draping their shoulders and him murmuring promises against Junho's lips and cheek and nose and everything, there will be words of regret, _apologies_ , but now is not that time.  
  
Now is the rush of urgency, the aching need to feel more skin, more friction, more Junho under his fingertips, because it has been so long, _god too long_ , since he has Junho pliant and wanting and coming undone beneath him. Chansung's body trembles with all these needs and wants, --he's not the only one, Junho's nail scrapes his shoulder as it tugs the shirt off of him, Chansung breaks the kiss and let's Junho pulls it over his head and tosses it aside.  
  
" Jesus, Chan." Junho gasps out when Chansung's mouth finds his stomach, peppering wet, open mouthed kisses against the skin. Junho is firm and supple, soft and hard, he's everything Chansung remembers and also he's not.  
  
For one, the japanese inscription inked across the dip of his left hip is something that is not there before and Chansung's tongue traces it with curiousity, chasing away the days, months, _years_ , that dwindles down to nothing at this moment. Junho curses something under his breath and jerks his hips forward when Chansung nips the skin.  He's unabashedly hard and Chansung's mouth waters from the mere memory of having Junho's cock, flushed and leaking, throbbing inside his mouth.  
  
Chansung licks his lips and looks up, searching for Junho's eyes, because he needs to know what he can and can not do right now; his fingers gripping Junho's hips tight enough to bruise, but they won't move unless Junho wants this too. This truce they have going on is too delicate and Chansung doesn't want to ruin it. Junho looks back at him with expectation and lust, but also a hint of hesitation, like the weight of what they're doing now is slowly seeping into his mind.  
  
The sound of siren suddenly heard across the shatterdome, loud enough to reach the kwoon and both men knows full well what it means.  
  
" Kaiju breach." Chansung sits up, head swiveling to the direction where mission control is and he can hear Junho's strings of curses, some remark in japanese that Chansung recognise from his last stay in Tokyo. Junho moves fast, pulling himself together, tugging his shirt down and when Chansung grabs his own shirt, left forgotton on the mattress , Junho is already out the door.  
  
  
  
  
Chansung meets Nichkhun, already getting ready in the drivesuit room and he can't help but ask, " How's Hongkong? Did they sent someone out for you, you're here pretty fast. "  
  
" Nah, I didn't leave the base." Nichkhun says.  
  
" I didn't see you anywhere."  
  
" I'm not at anywhere you look." Nichkhun winks at him before they have their helmets on.  
  
They're quickly brief-ed during the preparation sequence, and by the time jumphawks deploys _diablo intercept_ at sea, Chansung knows it's a double event, two kaijus emerging from the breach at the same time. Nichkhun prompts them on battle mode the second their jaeger hits the water, running towards _cherno alpha_ that's being shred to pieces by _leatherback_ , _otachi_ lurking at the side after taking down _crimson typhoon._  
  
They know they have to do this quick, kill the kaiju before they reach the coastline or worse, the city. Chansung picks up the pace when he notices movement from his right, coming up fast until it passes them, platinum sky blue that glows bright under the moonlight. _Echo saber_ already has its double sword ready in both arms and he knew PPDC means it when they said all means necessary, because as effective as it can be , using a sword is always the last resort, the years long toxic contamination from kaiju blue spilling in the waters is something all rangers are aware about.  
  
He sees echo saber going after leatherback through the interface and Chansung doesn't need Nichkhun to say it, he's activating their plasma canon and heads straight to otachi.  
  
  
  
~  
  
  
  
Junho is avoiding him.  
  
It has been three days since the kaiju attack, three days since the kwoon, and Junho is avoiding him. Chansung tries to ignore it, how Junho is quiet in the mess hall even when minjun, his drift partner is exchanging jokes and beer with Nichkhun at their table, ( Chansung knows minjun, he's an excellent ranger who likes to hum random songs. He's a nice guy, but the fact that he's Junho's drift partner always makes Chansung uneasy, he'd call it jealousy but he knows it's not his place to feel that way.)  
  
He knows he should probably brush it off and goes through the days as usual. He might be able to, if that time in the kwoon never happened. _But it did happen_ , says a voice at the back of his head, the taste of Junho's skin, the scent of his arousal lingering stubbornly in Chansung's memory.  
  
Something small bumps his leg and Chansung looks down to a grey silvery ball of fur. He drops to his heels and smiles.  
  
" Hey lil guy, where did you come from?"The small puppy snifs his palm and Chansung lifts him to his chest. He has a fancy collar, well groomed and wearing what seems to be a knitted sweater, so he must've belonged to someone. Chansung holds him while walking on, scanning for people that looks like they might lost their dog, realising how stupid that thought is, but he needs to start somewhere.  
  
That's when he notices Junho.  
  
And Junho notices him too, from the way he freezes in place, half way in the corridor towards him. He looks conflicted, like he's weighing between backpeddaling or walking on  
  
." You could go back to your last turn and I'll pretend I haven't seen you if you want." Chansung says as he approaches, thanking all the gods that his voice sounds neutral and solid despite himself.  
  
" And why would I do that?" Junho answers, eyes guarded.  
  
Chansung shrugs. Scratching the puppy behind his ear slowly. " you've been avoiding me these past few days. Thought I'll just make it easier for you."  
  
" I did not."  
  
" Yes you did."  
  
" _I did not._ Why would I avoid you? You’re giving too much credit to yourself, avoiding you means I have to care that you're around in order for me to avoid. Which I don’t. “  
  
If the words meant to hurt him, they did their job, and he wears it easy, the pain. " It's okay. I get it." _You never wanted it to happen, it was a mistake,_ Chansung thinks but doesn't say. He smiles instead, and falls back into step quietly. It's not that he doesn't know it, that he doesn’t see it coming. He does. But like everything when it comes to Junho, knowing it's coming has nothing to do with preparing for the actual hit.  
  
  
Or miss. Because Junho just calls him back and when Chansung turns around Junho is scratching the back of his neck, eyes everywhere but at Chansung. " Where are you taking the dog?"  
  
" I don't know." Chansung says honestly. " He seems lost, I was just gonna try to find the owner."  
  
" Still trying to save everyone, eh, Hwang?"  
  
" Not everyone," Chansung answers.  
  
" I know, I know, 'just the ones you can' , right?" Junho stares at him for what seems to be forever. And then he smiles. An actual, genuine smile that makes Chansung's breath catches, makes his bloodflow rush that he can hear his heart beating in his ear. Junho's smile is the sun, and Chansung has lived in the darkness for far too long.  
  
"Yeah." He rasps, " He's just a puppy. I have to help."  
  
" Of course you do." Junho scoffs, harmless this time, more amused than anything else. Junho walks closer and pets the puppy's head. Knuckles brushing Chansung's ." First of all, he's a she. Audrey's a female. And second, I think I might know who owns her." Junho grins.  
  
The walk to Audrey's owner is mostly quiet. None of them talk much. But it's a nice, comforting silence, and somehow the sound of Junho's breathing becomes louder than the noise of cantonese mixed with english in every corner, louder than the creaking metal of jaeger's shield getting rampaged by a kaiju, louder than all other ear-deafening sounds Chansung have heard these past years. It is this slow, constant pull and release of air that have always been there, in the background of everything Chansung does, every place he goes, every battle he endures; it is what Chansung's heart is beating to.  
  
  
  
  
" I did, you know? Got on my knees and prayed for you, every fucking day since you left to enlist." Junho chuckles, sitting on the edge of his bunk.  
  
Chansung is leaning against the door frame, has been leaning there since minjun opens the door and gives Chansung a one arm hug ( the other arm is holding audrey) for bringing his puppy back. Then he's out going somewhere and Junho asks Chansung , _do you wanna come inside?_ And rather than fretting about everything like he usually does, Chansung finds Nichkhun's voice laughing at the back of  his mind at the accidental pun.  
  
" Until it became unbearable, just sitting there and waiting for you, so I packed my bags and left." He continues. "Went to seoul, but couldn't find your name anywhere, so I thought sidney, but you weren’t there either."  
  
The quarter where Junho and minjun’s at is basically the same with that Chansung's has with Nichkhun, only a bit more messier, more pictures on the walls and Chansung heart aches a little with every picture of people in Junho's life that he doesn't recognise. It always feels like it's just yesterday, the beach and the papers and Junho standing there. It's a strange feeling actually seeing how far they've come now.  
  
" I was transferred to manila, and then stationed in panama. I sent letters, emails--,"  
  
" I know, " Junho takes a deep breath, " I read them at first, 'was hoping you'd apply for a ground staff, tech-officer, medical back up, anything that doesn't put you smack dab in the middle of a fight with those things but of course you have to be a ranger. _Of course._ I didn't read any of what you sent after that. " Junho shakes his head and Chansung doesn't say anything. His whole body tight because it must've been hell for Junho, the waiting, the not knowing. " When I was in japan, I made a decision and applied to the academy, got myself a spot in Tokyo shatterdome, met minjun and here i am."  
  
" Why did you do it? I don't understand. Why did you apply? I thought you hated this."  
  
Junho laughs, loud, his adam's apple bobbing and _god,_ Chansung misses him so much.  
  
" All those books you read and you still don't get it? You're such an idiot hwang Chansung, I swear." He clicks his tongue and pulls his knees to chest, the laughter still present at the corner of his lips but his eyes goes dim. " Always so eager to save everyone, but who's gonna save you? Who's gonna have your back or be there for you when you need them? who's gonna protect _you_?" Junho mutters. " So, i thought, for every kaiju I killed, that's one more kaiju that won't hurt you, one more that I don't have to worry will bring harm to you. " He says, smiling ruefully.  
  
Chansung have heard enough, his heart swells, expanding so much so quickly he thinks he will burst out, all tiny little pieces that screams Junho's name, so he strides across the distance between them, dropping to his knees and kisses Junho. He kisses Junho for all the years, all the regrets, all the words he wanted to say but _couldn’t_. Junho kisses back, arms tight around Chansung's neck and Chansung can taste tears, bitten back sobs, and breaths that hitches, it is his and it is Junho's and it's okay. He's here, they have each other now, he has Junho and he's not letting go, not this time.  
  
Not ever.  
  
  
  
~  
  
  
  
" This is nifty." Chansung says, fingers playing with Junho's streak of blue hair. Junho's cheek pressing against his shoulder so Chansung can actually feel the grin spreading on Junho's face. He's laying half on top of Chansung, their skin warm and damp and lazy from the afterglow.  
  
" Got it from Wooyoung's sister, she's one of the k-scientist here." Junho nuzzles his nose on Chansung's neck and stays there, just breathing, and the hot puffs of breath that falls on his skin makes Chansung's toes curl in delight. " she neutralised it and gave me bunch of warnings, no huffing, no direct contact, yada yada yada." he chuckles.  
  
" So it's true? That you used _biantal_ 's kaiju blue for dyeing your hair?"  
  
Junho laughs at that, shifting in his small bunk and propping his elbows down to support his head as he eyes Chansung. " Have you been snooping around behind my back, hwang chansung?" Their feet still tangling and the sad fabric that is Junho's blanket is on the floor, along with the rest of their clothes. " Well your source sucks, it's from _ceramide_ , it has more glow than _biantal_ 's."  
  
" As I said, nifty." Chansung chuckles.  
  
" Well, we can't all have tattoos all across our back."  
  
" Wooyoung has that , doesn't he? massive tattoos on his back." Chansung says, and when Junho raises an eyebrow he adds, " Nichkhun told me, don't ask me how he knows."  
  
" Wooyoung's the golden boy of the local yakuza, so to speak, Nichkhun better treat him right or else."  
  
" You're joking, right?"  
  
" Stop talking about Wooyoung, " Junho bites his shoulder, tongue licking the bruised spot before moving to straddle Chansung, pressing his ass down where it matters and Chansung is hard again. " Better yet, stop talking, period." Junho smiles sweetly, rocking his hips against Chansung's slowly and _yeah, sure_ , is the last thing Chansung says to him before reaching up for Junho's dog tags, brushing junho's imprinted name with his thumb, the metal cool on his fingers as he tugging it down, bringing Junho to him, Junho's hands on his shoulder, his full weight on Chansung and it feels right.  
  
He doesn't know what will happen tomorrow, doesn't know if the kaijus will ever stop coming, or if they could win the war. It's a perilous time they're living in, the feeling of apocalypse is impeding. But Junho is here, Junho is his and whatever happen next he knows they will always have each other.  
  
" I got you." Junho whispers in his ear, their fingers linking and it’s enough for Chansung. It’s everything.


End file.
